“No! nor the Bush! Jist let them try it wi’ oor Willie! Dod! he would put the hems on them; he could wrastle a score o’ blecks wi’ his least wee bit touch.”
“Erchie.”
“Weel, Jinnet?”
“Ye’ll no’ be angry wi’ me; but wha was it tellt ye they saw him twa years syne carryin’ on near the quay, and that he was stayin’ at the Sailors’ Home?”
“It was Duffy,” said Erchie, hurriedly. “I have a guid mind to—to kick him for sayin’ onything o’ the kind. I wad hae kicked him for’t afore this if—if I wasna a beadle in the kirk.”
“I’m shair it wasna oor Willie at a’,” said Jinnet.
“Oor Willie! Dae ye think the laddie’s daft, to be in Gleska and no’ come to see his mither?”
“I canna believe he wad dae’t,” said Jinnet, but always looked intently in the face of every young man who passed them.
“Weel, that’s ower for anither Setturday,” said Erchie to himself, resuming his slippers and his spectacles.
“I declare, wife,” said he, “ye’ve forgotten something.”